


just for fun

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9441308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: That’s when I get an idea.A horrible, awful idea because we’re both straight — maybe a tad bit heteroflexible in my case — but an idea nonetheless.“Why don’t you take me on a date?”





	

“RYAN! Ryan Ryan Ry-“

“I’m here, Jesus Christ,” I answer grumpily. It’s 2 in the morning on a school night, plus this is the first time in ages I’ve gotten to sleep before midnight rolled around — an achievement in my book. If the person calling had been anyone other than Brendon, they would’ve been a dead man.

“Okay so I’m texting this girl Miranda from my church right now and—“

And that’s where I’m going to have to tune him out. I couldn’t care less about some cutesy Mormon girl that his parents probably introduced to him. The thought of that elicits a snort out of me, and shit, I forgot Brendon was talking still.

“What’s so funny?” He sounds defensive.

“Um… nothing?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d not laugh at my lack of dating experience.” I can’t see him, but I bet his face is turning that nice pink color it usually does when he’s flustered. It’s a cute look on him, I can admit it.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear!” I exclaim. Maybe I had been, but come on, it didn’t really count if I was laughing at the thought of his parents, did it?

“Well… if you say so. So um, what do you think I should do?” Brendon asks and… what? That is the vaguest question I’ve heard all week. I tell him so, earning a laugh and a fond “you never listen to me” from him.

“If you would ever pay attention, Ryan Ross—” I involuntarily shiver. It must be cold in here. “— I’m asking what I should do for a first date with her.”

Wait.

He’s going on a date with her? Somehow, the thought of my Mormon best friend on a super awkward date with a girl-down-the-street type didn’t make me laugh like it normally would. Looking at this logically, what if Brendon messes up and his parents really liked the girl? I couldn’t let him be the laughingstock of his family again; He is my best friend after all.

That’s when I get an idea.

A horrible, awful idea because we’re both straight — maybe a tad bit heteroflexible in my case — but an idea nonetheless.

“Why don’t you take me on a date?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

I probably could have phrased that better. He sounds scared, like the prospect of going on a date with me is _horrifying_.

“I mean, take me on a practice date. So when you go on one with whatserface, you don’t fuck it up like you normally do.”

“Oh shut up,” He’s laughing now, thank God. “I was thinking of taking her to a movie, but no dinner because I can’t afford both. You think she’d be disappointed if—“

“Friday, 8 PM for the practice date. Please, let me go to sleep already,” I whine.

“It’s already Friday though,” He states as if I’m a fundamental idiot.

“It’s not Friday until I officially wake up. Good _night_ Brendon.” I hang up before he gets the chance to talk my ear off some more. Believe me, I love it when he does but not when I’m half asleep and have a history test in the morning.

-

I arrive at the theatre ten minutes late, hoping Brendon doesn’t notice. My absolute garbage pile of a car had refused to start again but damn it, I’m keeping that thing until it unravels completely.

He had already told me what we were going to see — some horror movie I’d never heard of. I give him points for living up to the clichés. If I’m — or Brendon’s actual date’s — lucky enough, maybe he’ll even let me cuddle up to him. Joy to the world.

I spot him waiting outside of the showing, knee bouncing and all. He’s got his dopey red glasses and lavender hoodie on, which makes him very endearing, don’t get me wrong, but I hope he’s not planning to wear that outfit for his real date.

“Hey there gorgeous,” I say breathily as I sidle up to him. I may as well get into the part, just for kicks.

“Um, hi?” He looks confused. I roll my eyes and drag him inside, trusting him to take over and lead us to where we’d be sitting.

He takes us to the back. I couldn’t think of any more ways to make this fake date more cliché than it already was. Luckily for me, the big screen is still displaying previews, giving me time to coach him.

“First things first Bren, I see absolutely no food here. You wanna impress your date, you gotta provide for them, you know?”

Brendon blushes and scratches his neck, saying he’ll be right back. I assume he’s getting popcorn. Step One, check. I decide to make myself comfortable and pull up the arm rest between his chair and mine, then swing my legs up to the top of the seat in front of me. The theatre isn’t too crowded, rare for a Friday night, but I’m not complaining.

Five minutes later, Brendon returns with a big bucket of popcorn and some M&M’s. Hey, he got my favorites!

“Next, as you can see through the lack of armrests raised here, we—“ I don’t even have the chance to finish my sentence before he’s already wrapped an arm around my bony shoulders and tugged me close. My arm automatically goes to the back of his waist — instinct at this point. I was just going to tell him to put the popcorn bucket between us but this works too, I guess. “I’d suggest you don’t actually put your arm around her until halfway through the movie.”

“Why not? We watch movies like this all the time.”

“I’m your friend though, she’s your date who you barely know yet. You don’t know her boundaries.”

He nods like he understands and drops his arm. He unlatches my arm from his waist too and stares ahead, like an ad for a Christmas movie has become more interesting than me. I didn’t want that; I was quite comfortable with his arm around me, as a matter of fact. There’s no easy way to say ‘ _hey bro, would you mind letting me cuddle your side again_ ’ though so I drop it.

“Uh so next… well, you know how in all the movies the girl ends up jumping at all the scary scenes and starts cuddling with you for ‘comfort’?”

“Yeah?”

“Take advantage of that and act all brave for her. Chicks dig that shit.”

Brendon giggles and mimes writing on a clipboard. I instantly smile; He’s such a dork. “Noted, Mr. Ross! Anymore tips?”

“Yeah, but I’ll let you know during the movie.”

The movie starts playing and both of us quiet down.

It’s okay so far, nothing major. Of course the lead roles are white; It wouldn’t be an American horror movie without white people wanting to get themselves into dumb shit.

A window shatters, making Brendon squeal and jump about ten feet in the air. This results in the people a few rows ahead of us shushing him. I laugh as he lightly punches my arm.

We get a glimpse of what’s probably the antagonistic spirit of the movie accompanied with loud music ten minutes later. Brendon instantly presses himself into my side, fingers clutching my arm. A noisy orchestral bang has him whimpering into my neck. I start gnawing on my lip; He’s being clingier than usual. Surprisingly, I don’t mind. I actually like it more than I should.

Somehow, a girl’s arm gets chopped off. It’s enough to make me gag and apparently enough for Brendon to interlace our fingers together and squeeze my hand. He’s absolutely terrible at following advice; Wasn’t he supposed to be the protector here?

“Ryan?” Brendon whispers. His hot breath hit my neck in a rather stark way. The temperature difference makes me shiver, embarrassingly enough.

“Hm?”

“Are you cold?”

“Kinda.”

He pulls away from me (why am I so disappointed?) and rummages in his backpack for a few seconds, eventually pulling out a fleece blanket. “I figured I’d bring this for my actual date too.”

Right, his actual date. It’s at that moment that I realize I’m slightly fucked. He slings the blanket over the both of us and resumes his position as a human-sized limpet. I’m too busy reveling over the fact that I may be a teensy bit in love with my best friend to notice.

The movie is halfway over and Brendon’s looking up at me like he’s expecting something. It can’t be—? No way, Brendon’s not into guys.

“What else should I do on my date?” He asks quietly, the low light from the big screen bouncing off his glasses. It makes his face shine, makes him look younger under the blue blanket that’s enveloped his body. I visibly swallow.

“Um… uh…” I look to the screen for any life-changing answers it may offer me. All I get is an eyeful of crying teenagers in a haunted forest. “You could… feed her popcorn?”

Brendon looks skeptical, but he grabs the previously discarded popcorn bucket off the floor and places it underneath the blanket with us. I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw a few droplets of blood— I sincerely hope he can’t see that in the dark lighting. He unceremoniously grasps a handful of popcorn and glances at me nervously.

“Open,” states Brendon feebly. I do and he shakily feeds me a few kernels. We don’t break eye contact, which makes it all that much more awkward. My heart-rate is skyrocketing by the second, and I can definitely see a darker tint to his face than there was a few minutes ago. How would he react if I just… sucked on his finger?

He swallows, visibly uncomfortable as he plunges his hand in the popcorn bucket again and motions for me to open my mouth again. Once again, I follow his directions but as soon as his index finger is partially inside my mouth, I close it.

Brendon’s shocked into unmoving nervousness. I don’t know what I’m doing as I coax his full finger into my mouth and run tentative licks alongside it and the pad of his digit. He isn’t making any indication that he wants to stop.

I chance a look at his face and his pupils are blown, mouth slightly hanging open in unadulterated surprise. I unfurl his fist and start sucking on one more of his fingers, eyes lidded. He’s breathing heavily and when it sounds like he’s gonna pass out, I take his fingers out with a wet pop.

“Wh— What do I do after that?” He asks, voice small and vulnerable.

“You kiss her,” I whisper back hungrily as I attack his lips. Brendon makes a small noise against my mouth as I clench the back of his ridiculous hoodie with a fist. He isn’t kissing back — does he know how? — but that doesn’t matter, I’m more than willing to teach him how to kiss. I’m running my tongue along his soft, soft lips, begging for entrance before he puts a rough hand on my shoulder and pushes me away, leaving me to try to make out with air.

“Ryan, we—“ Whatever he’s attempting to say is interrupted by me linking our mouths together again. I’m not sure where this sudden need to have him pliant against me came from, but I’m not letting go of him without an indication that _I’ve_ been here, this is _mine_.

He doesn’t push me away.

It’s me who breaks the kiss in favor of mouthing over his pulse point. It’s beating as fast as mine, maybe even faster. Internally, I’m relieved; I did that. I close my eyes and begin to nip at his neck, marking whatever I damn well pleased with a bite. His stuttered moans are like music to my ears.

If he has plans on organizing that god-forsaken date with that church girl some time, he better have some top-notch concealer.

I break away, satisfied with the splotches on his neck and move down to his jutting collarbones. Pale, so pale in the lighting. I’m going to fix that.

“Ry— fuck,” Brendon groans out as I clamp down hard on his collarbone. His hands are shaky at his sides; I can tell he’s unsure of what exactly he’s supposed to be doing. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got this.

Once I’m done attacking his collar bone, I move back to his lips. I briefly entertain the thought of palming him, but even I’m not slutty enough to jack him off in the back of a theatre.

“Tastes so good Bren,” I mutter against his lips. My arms snake around his waist as he apprehensively places his around my shoulders. I’m tempted to run off with him, to carry him all the way back to my house and have my way with him, but Lord knows what circle of hell I’d end up in if I tried to fuck an innocent Mormon boy.

I let go of him instead. He has a look of awe on his face that I paint a mental portrait of. The silence stretches on, even as the movie credits flash and the light comes back on. His starstruck eyes flit around the quickly emptying theatre as I continue to stare at him.

He’s so fucking gorgeous. How didn’t I see that before?

“We— We should go,” says Brendon softly. I agree with a nod of my head. He scoops up his blanket and stuffs it back in his bag, then looks at me, as if waiting for me to do something. I’m not quite sure I get the message.

I suppose it’s obvious to him that I’m confused, so he clasps my hand with his own himself and _oh_. That’s what he was trying to do.

“Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> lmao i should be writing my multi-chap fic but i get distracted hella easily. RIP.


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